Without Her
by SkinnyLittleLesbian
Summary: While pregnant with Regina's child, Emma is involved in a massive accident that steals the past six years of her memories. Swan Queen. Complete.
1. Chapter 1

The room was dark when Emma awoke. She opened her eyes slowly, trying to shake the lingering feeling that she was somewhere strange; normally she was completely used to waking up in new places, so this unease didn't sit well with her. Though her vision was blurry at first, she tried to focus them on the various structures in the room. The harder she sought to clear things up, the harder her head throbbed. Eventually she gave up on closed her eyes once more.

Her second attempt was much more fruitful. When she was younger she had developed a technique for distracting her mind from pain so that she could still function, which was very useful for getting away from bullies. Now, though, she just wanted to sit up and get her bearings. The walls were white. She took slow, deep breaths and looked again. The stark lack of color informed her that contrary to her expectations, she was no longer in a room at Granny's.

She was in a hospital room. Her stomach roiled, but she kept herself from vomiting by using another method adapted from childhood necessity. She searched her memories, looking for some explanation as to why she was hooked to an intravenous needle, or why her arms was in a cast, or why her head felt brutalized. Her thoughts were cloudy, though, and all that she could remember was going to sleep at the bed and breakfast.

Step one, she told herself, was getting out of the hospital. Doctors were rarely any help, or so her past experience taught her. Doctors believed the bruising on her rib cage was caused by falling off the jungle gym, and the broken finger had been the result of her accidentally getting caught in the car door. Even though she was fully grown now, and in full control of what information was told to her physician, she couldn't get past her deeply seated distrust.

She eased to her feet and then paused to make sure she wouldn't topple over. Minutes passed while she stood stock still, breathing slowly and letting her body get used to being upright. She wondered just how long she'd been lying in that bed. As soon as she could move with confidence that she wouldn't fall, she made her way to the drawers by the sink. She fished out a bit of gauze and some tape. With painstaking caution, she pulled the iv out, jammed the gauze onto the spot of blood, and secured the makeshift bandage into place.

Before she could just waltz out of the hospital, she needed clothes. She shuffled around the room in the hopes that her belongings were around. There was a jacket folded neatly over an armchair but nothing else – so she slipped her good arm in and hid the bad one inside. The pain of every movement beat at her skull, but she kept everything but her desire to escape at bay. There would be time to lick her wounds later. First she had to remove herself from this situation.

She tried the door; the panic that ricocheted through her when she found that the knob wouldn't turn nearly brought her to her knees. No, she thought, I cannot be locked up again. Quite suddenly, her old claustrophobia pressed heavily against her chest, making breathing impossible. She reached for the wall to steady herself and was glad to find that the room wasn't shrinking on her. Her lax attention caused a fresh surge of bile to leap up her throat. She emptied her stomach onto the linoleum, feeling woozy and disgusted all at once.

Now that she had puked, though, her mind was clearing. The door wasn't the only exit – there were three windows on the opposite end of the room. These she could easily open, and the screens were displaced with a sharp shove of her palm. Thank God for small miracles, she thought as she discovered that she was on the first floor of the hospital. Trying her best not to jolt her injured arm, she muscled herself up onto the sill, through the gaping hole, and then down into the waiting bushes below.

The moon was high overhead – Emma determined that the time was just after midnight, which meant that hitchhiking wouldn't get her very far. Dressed as she was, the practice would be almost impossible. She hobbled along, hating how each step sent spikes of pain through her. If she remembered correctly, Storybrooke General was about ten miles from Granny's. There was no way she was going to reach Granny's by foot. Muttering a small apology under her breath, she made her way to the parking lot and selected a car parked near the exit. She jimmied the door open, called upon her years of joy riding, and yanked the appropriate wires to get the car to start.

At first going over five miles an hour was alarming, but by the time she reached the main streets, she was cruising at a comfortable twenty-five. There was no one else on the streets, so Emma felt no real pressure to move any faster. Sooner or later a nurse would come by her hospital room on a round, but nobody would look for her. Nobody ever did. She had all the time in the world to get back to her room, dress in her clothes, and figure out her next move.

She parked the stolen car on the curb outside, resolving to dispose of the vehicle later when she felt steadier. The bed and breakfast was dark, so she whispered another apology and let herself into the lobby. From behind the front desk, she stole a spare key to her room. Almost home, she thought with no small amount of relief. She limped up the stairs, slid her key into the door, and stepped into –

Where was her stuff? The room she entered was bare – as if nobody had been there in several months, except perhaps to dust and vacuum. She felt her body giving up on her, so she walked as quickly as she could manage to the bed before collapsing onto the crisp linens. Fuck, she thought. What the fuck was going on?

0-0-0

"What do you mean?" Regina jabbed a finger at Whale's chest. He looked wholly unimpressed with her minute threat of violence, which only enraged her further. "She was in an induced coma so that she could heal – how could she just wake up and walk away?"

He consulted his clipboard, though she was fairly positive he was just stalling for time rather than looking for an explanation. She waited thirty seconds – more than enough time, she thought, for an inept man to come up with some sort of barely satisfactory answer – and then jabbed him again.

"I'm a medical doctor, Mayor Mills. I deal with physical problems. I put her arm in a cast. I induced the coma. I did everything in my power to help her heal. What I cannot do, however, is predict how magic has an influence upon medicine. You can review my records – you'll see that everything was administered correctly for a woman of her size. So attempting to antagonize me will get you nothing." He raised his eyebrows. "What you should be doing, if you want my opinion, is looking for her."

"I am," she snapped. "Don't you dare insinuate that-"

"I'm not insinuating anything."

"Good."

"If that's all you need, I have other patients to tend to."

Regina wanted to chase him down and shake him silly, but he was irritatingly correct. He wasn't in the hospital at the time she went missing. Accusing him of negligence would do nothing but waste both of their times. Rather than let her fury control her, she stalked over to David and shook her head.

"He had nothing useful to tell us."

"There's a nurse up front whose car got stolen sometime last night. We don't know exactly when it happened, but chances are pretty good that she took it."

"What is she doing?" Regina closed her eyes and begged silently for patience. "Where would she go?"

He shrugged. "I sent out a mass text asking everyone to keep an eye out for a blue Hyundai."

"Any response?"

"Three, all putting the vehicle in different places."

"Could she possibly be on the move?"

"I don't know. We'd have to know what condition she was in before she left." He scratched his head. "But we can check out each claim – we're bound to find her at one of them."

"Where?"

"Someone spotted the car out at the toll bridge. Another person reported the car as being parked outside Granny's. The last person said it was on Harrison, just past Three Pigs Barbershop."

"Is Snow near any of those places?"

"She's at Granny's right now, having breakfast with Red."

Regina frowned. "Have you told her what's happening?"

"I didn't want to panic anyone if we just found her in the parking lot or something."

"A mass text does scream there's nothing wrong at all, doesn't it?" She couldn't stop her scathing tone, but he didn't seem bothered by the venom. He looked worried, she noted, and she could relate to that. "Tell her to have Red sniff the car. Meanwhile, you'll go out to the barbershop and ask around, and I'll check the area around the bridge."

He nodded and hurried to do as commanded. She watched him leave, all the while thinking that he wasn't a horrible interim sheriff, but she would much rather Emma fill that role once again as soon as possible. Without wasting another second, she set about her mission as well, leaving all other thoughts for a better time.

0-0-0

"Emma?" Snow rapped on the door. There was no answer, so she exchanged a look with Red, who gestured for her to try the knob.

"She's in there. I can smell her."

"Why would she run from the hospital? And in her condition? What if there's something seriously wrong?"

"Then we really need to get inside to help her."

Snow nodded reluctantly. "But why did she steal a car? This doesn't sound like our Emma."

"Open the door. Or call Regina."

Despite nearly five years of peace between her and the other brunette, Snow still much too anxious about the other woman to do something like that – even if Emma was Regina's wife. Emma was her daughter first, she reminded herself. She pushed the door open, and they entered together. Snow halted abruptly while Red dashed to the bed where Emma still lay unconscious.

"Em?"

This time when Emma awoke, the room was bright. She licked her dry lips and sat upright. Ruby was there, and so was Mary-Margaret. Relief trickled through her. "Ruby, Mary-Margaret, hey."

The two brunettes exchanged a confused look before Red responded. "Uh, you feeling okay, Emma?"

"Got a bit of a broken arm I can't explain just yet." Emma tried to smile. "I was actually hoping one of you two could fill me in on what happened? How long was I out?"

"It's been about a month," Snow answered, her eyes roving Emma's face. There was something subtly different, she noted, though she couldn't quite put her finger on what. Over the years, Emma's mien had relaxed and rounded out – but this Emma looked sharp and suspicious all over again. "You had a car accident."

"Did I wreck the sign again?" Emma's smile faded when neither standing woman returned the expression. "What?"

Red sat down next to Emma and placed a cool hand on Emma's forehead. "What's the last thing you remember?"

"I cut a limb off Regina's tree – which, okay, I know was a bad decision. Do you think she messed with my car? Like as revenge?"

"Regina wouldn't do that to you."

"Why not?"

Red grabbed Snow's arm. "I don't know if we should tell her everything right now. We need to get her checked out by a doctor."

"No doctors. Tell me what? What's everything?"

Snow shot Red an apologetic look. "Emma, the last thing you remember is from six years ago."


	2. Chapter 2

"She's fine."

Regina took several moments to let the news sink in. At first there was little she could do other than stand mutely and stare at the bridge ahead of her. Part of her had been so hopeful that Emma's behavior was perhaps mimicking David's from several years prior. Even unwell, he had gravitated toward the spot where he would meet his love. The thought that Emma might have done the same had set a small bit of hope afloat in her heart.

But the bridge had been bereft of both the car in question and Emma. There was no sign that either had been in this location, and frustration had bubbled through Regina's stomach. Certainly they were no Snow and Charming, she thought, and they had no standing promise to always find one another, but Regina hadn't expected her spouse to be so elusive. Thankfully the call from Snow had reached her before she needed to figure out what to do next.

Regina blinked several times before finding her tongue. "She's at Granny's?"

"Yes."

"I'm on my way." Regina hurried back to her car, hating the way her heels squelched in the mud but too focused on seeing Emma to care. She slammed the door shut, slipped the keys into the ignition, and then froze at Snow's next sentence.

"I don't think that's a good idea."

Over the years, Regina had worked incredibly hard to gain control over her temper, yet Snow's voice had a direct line to her irritation. Regina's jaw clenched tightly to keep herself from unleashing a torrent of frustration at the other woman.

"And why, exactly, do you think that?"

"She's fine," Snow repeated, "but she's, uh, she's forgotten some things."

"Such as?"

"The past six years."

Regina let her hand drop away from the keys. "You're certain."

"She says the last thing she remembers is cutting down your apple tree." Snow hesitated. "She doesn't even know how she broke her arm."

Regina stared through the windshield and tried to fight the despair threatening to overwhelm her. "She needs to go back to the hospital."

"She won't. I've tried everything, but she won't go. We're on our own with this."

"I suppose the best thing to do is introduce her slowly to her life now."

"That's what we thought, too."

"Then there's no reason for me to stay away."

"I don't think she'll handle it well, Regina."

"What are you saying?"

"Regina, she still thinks you're her enemy – and she doesn't know about the magic, or believe the curse is real. We can't just drop all of this on her at once."

Regina gripped the steering wheel with her free hand. "So what do you propose I do?"

"Can you pack up some of her stuff and bring it to my apartment? Try to choose stuff that might make her remember."

Regina hung up before Snow could keep talking. She tossed the phone into the passenger seat and attempted to clear her thoughts. Emma was physically safe and not dead – good things, she told herself. The fact that Emma couldn't yet remember their relationship was worrisome, but Regina chose to believe that Emma's memory loss was impermanent. For now she would do as Snow requested. She would go home, gather the things that meant the most to both of them, and send their teenaged son over with the bag. Plan in mind, she started the car and went home.

0-0-0

She threw a duffle onto the bed and rooted through their closet. When the large space had been just hers, Regina had kept it immaculately organized. The addition of Emma's belongings, though, had crowded the space – and Emma had a strict chaos in the closet rule, or so she claimed whenever Regina asked her to neaten up. After the accident, Regina had thought to tidy the closet but ultimately couldn't bring herself to disturb Emma's things.

The first thing she packed was a simple black leather jacket. She folded it neatly and remembered Emma's face on Christmas morning when the blonde had opened the gift. Emma was generally a happy individual, especially given the change in her circumstances from orphan to very loved member of a large family, but there were moments when Regina was treated to seeing Emma ecstatic. She loved seeing the blonde's face truly light up and actively sought new ways to make that happen.

She sorted through Emma's various tank tops and blouses. There were several sweaters at the back of the closet which Snow kept giving her daughter, and which Emma kept accepting with tentative and skeptical smiles, but Regina didn't bother with those. She focused on the articles of clothing that Emma wore most – or wore during important moments.

Though the dress was not a part of Emma's everyday garb, Regina found herself packing a slim fitting black dress. Emma had worn it the night Regina had proposed; Regina sat on the bed for a moment and lifted the garment to her nose. There were still faint hints of the perfume the blonde had worn, as well as a trace of Emma's natural scent. A lump gathered in her throat, but she fought to keep from breaking down.

"Mom?" Henry knocked on the door, though he was already halfway into the room. "Snow called the school and got me sent home. They wouldn't tell me why, though. Are you – are you okay?"

"I'm fine." Regina pushed her emotions away – she would deal with them later, when she was alone. "Your mother woke up."

"Is that why you're crying? Did something bad happen?"

At sixteen years old, Henry was just under six feet tall – but everything about him was a bit too large for his frame, from his feet, to his ears. He had the tendency to trip over his own feet as he walked, but as he made his way to her side in that moment, he moved with nothing but grace.

"She forgot almost everything." Regina summoned a weak smile. "She thinks you're still ten."

His eyebrows crept up his forehead. "Man, that would be exactly what would happen to our family, huh? It's been a while, though, since anything crazy's happened. I guess we were due."

"We're going to try and jog her memory as best we can. When I'm done packing, I need you to take this to her."

"You're not going to do it?" He rested his head on her shoulder. "Hm, well, I guess when I was ten you two really had it out for each other."

"I will reintroduce myself when the time is right."

"Do we have time?" He twisted his head to meet her gaze. "I mean, without her-"

"I know." She swallowed the lump in her throat down. "All the more reason we need her to remember everything as soon as possible. Do you have anything special you think she'd remember?"

He shrugged. "I'll take a look around."

"Thank you, Henry. Just remember when you see her that she doesn't know anything."

"Mom, I'm like the king of keeping secrets. She's on a need-to-know basis, and she doesn't need to know yet." He hugged her gently before getting back to his feet. "It'll work out, Mom. I know it will."

He had always been horribly optimistic, she thought, but right about then she relied upon his positivity to keep herself hopeful. She tossed a few more precious things into the bag, including Emma's wedding ring, and closed her eyes. She sent a few prayers up to any deity that happened to be listening and waited patiently for Henry to return.

0-0-0

"So where do I live?" Emma walked next to Snow. She was uncomfortable with how everyone was smiling at her and nodding or waving when they passed. The treatment further reinforced that she had misplaced several years' worth of memories. Things in Storybrooke had definitely changed, and even the tiniest of differences was making Emma feel anxious.

"You live in a house – but for now, since you won't go back to the doctor, you'll be staying with me. Henry's bringing some stuff over for you."

Emma thought it was a bit strange that Mary-Margaret was taking her in but reminded herself that they must have had years of friendship by this point. "He's what, sixteen now?"

"Yes."

Emma shook her head. "Has he finally gotten over all that curse stuff?"

Snow winced, but Emma didn't notice. "I suppose he has. It hasn't been an issue in recent years anyway."

"This is a lot to take in, y'know?"

Snow paused at the door to her house. "Before we go inside, I just want you to remember to breathe. If things get to be too much, you can go lie down. Okay?"

"Yeah, I'm fine." Emma looked pointedly at the door. "So we gonna go inside, or what?"

"Yes…"

Emma followed along behind, grateful that she felt much more steady this afternoon than she did the previous evening. She still hurt pretty much everywhere, but she was less stressed now that she was no longer in a hospital setting. Once inside, she glanced around, taking in the mélange of pictures on the walls and the bright crayon-marks on the walls.

"Uh, do you have kids now?"

"Two," Snow answered. "A three year old boy and a two year old girl."

"Are you sure you'll have space for me?"

"Yes. Anna is going to sleep with David and I, and you'll be in her room."

"I'll be fine on the couch."

Snow laughed. "Our couch has seen better days. You're welcome to it, but you'll have to convince Brutus to sleep somewhere else."

"Brutus?"

"Our dog." Snow whistled, waited a moment, and then whistled again. In the distance, Emma heard the thud of something hitting the ground and then the clip-clop of nails against hardwood. A behemoth of a Saint Bernard rounded the corner, his tongue lolling and his eyes half shut.

"Hey Brutus," Emma greeted. She rubbed his head. "I guess I'll take the kid's room, if it's really okay."

"It is." Snow smiled. "We're just so glad to have you back. You were asleep a long time, Emma."

"Yeah." At the knock at the front door, Brutus barked once and then loped back towards the living room. "He's quite the attack dog, huh?"

"If by attack you mean sleepy, then yes." Snow went to the door and tugged it open.

"Hey Ms. Blanchard." Henry hugged her briefly before brushing past to race at Emma. "Ma, you're alive!"

"And you're very tall." Emma craned her head up to look him in the eyes. "When did that happen?"

"The past couple of years." He hugged her, careful of her broken arm.

"And your voice is so deep."

"I know."

"And you call me Ma now."

He flushed. "I know I'm supposed to ease you back into the way things are, but it's just-"

She waved him off. "If that's the way things are, that's fine. As long as Regina doesn't kill me for it."

"She doesn't mind." Henry hugged her again. "By the way, because of you I don't get a car. All that money you guys were saving for my first set of wheels is now being spent on fixing you Bug. So you owe me, you got that?"

She tried her best to sort through the mysteries hidden within his speech but got lost and gave up. "The Bug is broken?"

"Car accident," Snow said. "It was almost totaled, but Michael said he'd do his best to fix it. We know how much that car means to you."

"Right."

Henry went back to the door and scooped up the bags he had abandoned. "So this is some of your stuff from the house. The really important stuff is on top – like the picture from when we won the Mother-Son three legged race at the last Miner's Day festival."

The thought of all those memories locked somewhere in her brain was too intense. Emma squeezed her eyes shut. "I think I need to take a nap, if that's okay. We'll talk later, okay, Henry?"

Henry nodded but withheld his frown until Snow had led Emma away.


	3. Chapter 3

Emma's dreams were, for the most part, muddy. That was the only word she could come up with that described how hard they were to understand, and how slowly they moved. Some had such intensely rich details that she could have sworn they were fragments of her lost memories, but others were filled fantastical elements that didn't exist anywhere but in Henry's story book. She awoke a few hours after her nap with the vision of town hall being enveloped in flames and smoke.

Heart pounding – Regina was there in her dream and had been injured, and for some reason that was intensely worrisome – Emma pulled her clothing on. She listened at the door until she was sure her path to the front door was clear, and then hurried out to the street. She wanted answers, but she needed to discover them for herself. They could tell her the events of the past six years, but she didn't trust anything that was given to her. Maybe they wouldn't lie to her, but she'd always wonder if they had.

Her first stop was town hall itself. The building looked to be in fine shape, but she hadn't expected anything different, really. For one thing, she reasoned, she had simply dreamed of its burning, and for another, six years had apparently passed. If her dream had been a real memory, the fire would have happened long enough ago that repairs could have been made. There was no rational reason for entering the building, but she found that she really wanted to see Regina.

The impetus was strange and inexplicable, but Emma didn't try to stop herself as she walked down the hallway to Regina's office. The secretary's desk was empty so Emma knocked on the door to Regina's office. When there was no answer, Emma pushed the door open and glanced around the empty room. Not deterred in the slightest by Regina's absence, Emma set off once more for the other place Regina was likely to be. She jogged down Mifflin, feeling all the while like she'd done this a million times.

She just wanted to make sure the other woman was okay, she thought. The dream had left her unsettled, and as much as Regina drove her crazy, she understood that the brunette hellion was Henry's mother and therefore deserved protection. She would check in, dispel her weird feelings, and then go back to Mary-Margaret's before anyone even noticed she had disappeared. The neighbors all looked incredibly pleased to see her, but she barely looked at them.

Henry answered on her third knock and smiled widely. "Ma, I didn't think you'd be up and about so soon."

"Yeah," she nodded agreeably, her eyes darting past him into the house. She could see a few picture frames hanging on the walls, but she couldn't quite make out what they were of. "Got a little – antsy. Needed to sort through things myself."

"Did you, uh, need something?" He flushed. "Not that you're not welcome here, but…" He shifted in front of her, blocking her vision and forcing her to focus on him once again. She wanted to grumble, as she was intent on figuring out one of the pictures, but he cut off her complaint with a question. "Why are you here?"

She couldn't tell him exactly what was worrying her, so she shrugged. The best thing to do right now, she realized, was act as though there was nothing bothering her. She might be able to knock a few facts loose from him. "So you still live here, huh?"

"Yup. Didn't for a while, but then things sorta went back to the way they used to be."

"Your mom lives here, too, right?"

"She never left." He tried not to think about his mother, who was currently huddled in the study with a glass of cider in hand. She was doing her best not to react strongly to the situation as it was unfolding, but he could tell that she wasn't doing too well. She'd never let him see it happen, but he'd heard her sniffling.

"She home?"

"Not right now."

"When will she be home?"

"Don't know."

Emma examined his face. His half-smile wavered, and his eyes shifted from her face to the side – a clear indication of deception. "You're lying. She's home right now. Why don't you want me to see her?"

Her superpower, which had been dormant for years, was apparently back and as strong as ever. He sighed, unwilling to put Emma's skills to the test. "I can't tell you, okay? I've been sworn to secrecy."

She knew it, she thought. They were purposely keeping things from her, which made their conduct extremely suspicious. They were not to be trusted. Rather than reveal her position, she smiled at him and feigned acquiescence.

"I have to heal more, huh? I get it. Fine, fine." She lifted her hands in a show of defeat. "Well, I'm heading back to Ms. Blanchard's. Come by later, if you want. You can tell me about that race."

He surged forward and kissed her cheek. "Ma, I know it's all really overwhelming, but I'm so glad you're okay. We've been through too much for a stupid car accident to ruin everything, y'know?"

She wasn't sure how to react to his affection and ended up tucking her good hand into her pocket to keep from doing something embarrassing like ruffling his hair. He looked disappointed by her silence, but even though she felt bad, she had nothing to add to what had already been said. She waved good bye and headed down the path.

0-0-0

Regina sipped her cider and stared down at the photo album in her lap. She hadn't even wanted the damn thing in the first place, but now it was all she had left. There were pictures from their wedding, their family vacations, and every holiday since they began seeing one another; the last page was Emma's initial ultrasound. She traced her fingertip over the image and swallowed the rest of her drink. Her head was a bit fuzzy, but the alcohol helped keep her centered. Until Emma was back in her arms, she would have to content herself with inebriation and the past.

When Emma knocked on the door, she set the album aside, huddled by the door, and listened to the conversation between mother and son. At the conversation's conclusion, she hurried to the window and watched her wife walking away from their home – and a fresh wave of anxiety crashed over her. On their wedding day, in her vows, Emma had promised to never run away again. Circumstances here were extraordinary, Regina recognized, but the pain she felt at watching the blonde leave was the same old pain she used to feel back in the days when she would have torched a village to feel better.

"Mom?"

She drew her eyes away from Emma's receding figure – the blonde was almost gone anyway, and there was little to be gained from simply watching the other woman. She felt no better for having snuck such an elongated look at her wife, actually feeling a little worse off. She was glad for the forced reprieve. Henry stood in the doorway, his expression apologetic.

"Yes, dear?"

"I'm sorry."

"For what?"

He rubbed the back of his neck and stepped closer. His first few attempts at speech were unintelligible, but he found his tongue eventually. He spoke so quietly that she almost couldn't hear him. "She was coming to pick me up…"

"None of this is your fault, Henry."

"But it sort of is. I could have walked home. But I didn't. I called her, and I made her leave work, and I made her drive to get me. She wouldn't have even been in the car without me."

She approached him slowly and pulled him into a tight hug. His chin came to rest on her shoulder. "If you hadn't called her, she may still have been in the car anyway."

"Maybe. But she was in the car for me, and now everything's-"

"Nothing is ruined, Henry. She will recover." Regina wasn't sure she believed in her own words, but she had to believe in Emma. The blonde was resilient, as the events of the past six years had proven over and over again. Emma could take anything the world threw at her and come out on top.

"In time for the barrier?" He clenched his eyes closed. "Because if not, then yeah, everything is ruined."

"If she is not well, or does not remember, I'll simply find a way around her absence."

"Do you think she'll forgive me?"

"Of course." She patted his back and stepped away. "There's nothing to forgive."

He gave her a watery chuckle. "I'm glad you feel that way, but I don't know if she will. You shoulda seen her eyes, Mom. She doesn't trust me at all. I'm not even sure she loves me anymore."

"She'll remember," Regina responded, trying to sound confident. They would drag each other through this, she thought, as she comforted him and he her in turn. "And if she doesn't, we'll simply earn her trust back."

0-0-0

Emma headed wearily up to the house, suddenly aware of how little energy she had these days. She had only been out and about for approximately two hours, but she felt as though she'd run a marathon. The nap she'd awoken from had recharged her batteries only temporarily, and she got the feeling she'd be taking a ton of little naps over the next couple of weeks until she felt like herself again.

She placed her hand on the doorknob, but froze as Mary-Margaret's voice drifted out of a nearby open window. Eavesdropping was rude, but she had no qualms with the practice when it directly benefited her or provided her with essential information. They were lying to her about something, so she felt entitled to spying upon them until the truth was revealed.

"David, I don't know how much longer I can do this."

"We'll keep introducing her to her past. She's bound to remember something at some point."

"We already lost her once – and now it's like we lost her again."

"Keep your voice down – I just got Anna to sleep."

"I'm sorry."

"I know how you feel. We're in the same position."

"It's got to happen soon. How are we going to explain to her about the baby?"

Emma's hand settled over her stomach. She couldn't quite understand their conversation, as she had no idea how Mary-Margaret and her husband had lost her once before, or what a baby had to do with anything. After Henry had been born, she'd sworn to never have another child – so there was no way they were talking about her. Maybe Mary-Margaret was pregnant again, and they wouldn't have space for her to stay for an extended period of time.

"She's going to find out sooner or later. She might believe that she's putting on weight, but she won't believe that she's getting food poisoning every time she has morning sickness, or that the accident caused a hormonal imbalance when her mood swings send her into tears. And when her period doesn't show up? How will you explain that?"

The blood drained slowly from her face.

"She's not ready yet."

"The longer we keep this from her, the worse it'll be."

"I just want a few days," Mary-Margaret begged. "Give her a chance to remember on her own. If she doesn't remember by Friday, I'll tell her. Just give me until then."

"I don't agree with this…"

"I know."

"Fine."

Emma ripped her hand away from the knob and backed slowly down the walk. This was too much – they were lying. Without her car, she couldn't get out of town – so she headed for one of the few places she remembered that wasn't too populated. While they would no doubt find her after a while, she would likely get a few hours of peace and quiet – during which she could throw a tantrum, release all of her anxiety, and cry without someone disturbing her.


	4. Chapter 4

The castle was no longer standing by the water which supported the supposition that she had indeed lost six years of her memory – not that she needed any more proof, but now reality felt that much more real. The structure was gone and in its place stood a lonely bench; Emma sat down on it, crossed her ankles, and folded her hands into her lap. The action caused her to touch her stomach, launching her thoughts into the realms of pregnancy.

She didn't want to be pregnant. Being pregnant with Henry had been frightening. She had been alone, incarcerated, and ignorant. Those nine and a half months still lingered in her subconscious, appearing in her nightmares – she dreamt off and on about the terror and pain of giving birth. Being pregnant now felt as though she were living one of her nightmares, and she wondered where the nearest abortion clinic was. She couldn't do this alone, not again-

But she might not be alone, she realized. In order to get pregnant, she must have trusted someone entirely. She let someone knock her up. Anxiety lodged in her throat. She didn't let anyone get that close for a reason: people in her life always left her. That's way it had always been, and the way it would always be. Thinking otherwise was just naïve.

She tilted her head back and watched clouds roll overhead. It was bound to rain, she thought, but she made no motion to get to cover. Out here, at least, there was nobody to bother her, or lie straight to her face. She realized that this was inaccurate, however, as a car rumbled to a halt behind her. She didn't bother turning her head to see who had discovered her but merely listened to the door creaking open and slamming shut. Gravel crunched under the interloper's feet and moments later Regina stood before her, arms folded and head cocked.

"Emma, it's going to rain."

"So we're on a first name basis now, Madam Mayor?"

Regina had been expecting confrontation, but what she got was a very deflated, very defeated tone. She stood a moment longer before taking a seat next to the depressed woman. They sat in silence for a few more minutes before Regina found something appropriate to say – she wanted badly to tell Emma exactly how things were, but she knew doing so could push Emma further away.

Rather than spill everything all at once, Regina cleared her throat and asked, "Did you have any questions?"

"Why are you here?"

"Mary-Margaret called Henry when you didn't come straight home. He told me."

Emma nodded, as if that made perfect sense. "Because of course you would know exactly where I was so that they could drag me back and tell me more lies."

"They lied to you?"

"They omitted." Emma focused in on Regina, her gaze more intense than Regina had experienced in a good many years. "Which is just as bad. I'm not fragile. I won't break. But I will leave if I have to."

"I won't lie to you."

"Why should I believe you? The people I thought were trustworthy have shown their true colors – and you, the person I barely trusted with my son, now claims to want to be honest with me?" Emma snorted. "Did things get totally topsy turvy in six years?"

Regina overlooked the obvious bate about Henry and merely shrugged. "All things change, given enough time."

"So you've changed enough to tell me the truth."

"Yes."

Emma was suspicious but decided to use this opportunity to see if Regina's information aligned with what she knew so far. "What happened with the fire in town hall?"

"Mr. Gold set it so that you could gain enough votes to become sheriff. I was hurt inside, and you carried me out."

The paper hadn't mentioned the first detail, and Emma wasn't entirely sure about who Mr. Gold was, but Regina seemed genuine in her response. Her lie detector wasn't going off yet, anyway. "Did you know I'm pregnant?"

Regina nodded curtly. "Yes. Your condition is well known around town."

"Who's the father?"

"Nobody you know."

Emma's brow furrowed as she determined that Regina was oddly enough telling the truth. "What?"

"You selected him from a list of sperm donors. He is in his mid-twenties, has brown hair and brown eyes, and suffers from no congenital illnesses."

"So I did this on purpose."

"Yes."

Emma clutched the bench tightly. Because Regina was telling her the truth, she felt comfortable revealing some of her own small secrets. "I don't want this. I don't know why I ever would have wanted this. I want to get rid of it, y'know? Maybe this was what I wanted before whatever happened – but this isn't possible now."

Regina blanched, a reaction that Emma noticed immediately. Before Emma could question her, Regina sat up straighter and said, "While I respect your agency in making this decision, I ask that you wait at least a short while before going through with anything."

"Why's this so important to you?"

If she hadn't promised to be honest, Regina would have lied through her teeth. She closed her eyes so she wouldn't have to see Emma's reaction. "Because he is my child as well."

Emma lurched to her feet, confusion making her thought processes jumbled and her speech stuttering. "I – wha – Yours?"

"This is the secret that Henry and Mary-Margaret have been trying to keep from you." Regina opened her eyes once more and upon seeing Emma standing, stood as well. Her tongue felt too thick her mouth, and her heart pounded violently away as she thought about the possibility that Emma might walk away from her. "They wanted me to remain silent, but I think you deserve to know."

"Know what?" Emma stepped backward.

"Over the course of six years, we progressed from seeming enemies, to friends, and finally to lovers." Regina didn't approach any closer. "We married several years ago. The whole town came, even though the crowds embarrassed you."

"That's like not even possible." Emma knew that Regina wasn't lying but couldn't comprehend ever allowing someone into her life that intimately. People were useful – when she needed something, she liked having resources, but nobody was supposed to care about her. She wasn't supposed to care about anyone else.

"When you awoke in the hospital, your door was locked, wasn't it?"

Emma licked her lips before responding. "You did that?"

"Citizens kept sneaking into your room to hold vigils. I wanted you to rest without such grievous intrusions upon your privacy, so I had the doctors lock your door to keep out unwanted visitors." Regina scanned Emma's face for signs of what Emma's next move might be. She tried to remember what the Emma of six years ago was like but couldn't conjure that long, lost woman even as a memory. Things between them were so different, and she didn't want to go back to how they were. The animosity that filled their early relationship was exhausting; all she wanted was her wife back. "Your life here is important. You may not remember the people whose lives you've touched, but they have come to rely upon you."

"Right," Emma muttered, "because some guy rigged the sheriff election."

"Because of a dozen small reasons that I can't even begin to expand upon." Seeing that Emma wasn't yet skittering away, Regina closed the distance between them and set a hand on Emma's arm. "You can choose to believe me, or to disregard everything I say. All I'm asking is that you return to Mary-Margaret's house for the time being."

"Why?" Emma's gaze dropped to the warm hand on her arm. Physical connection was incredibly alarming – but something deep inside her relished in the comfort Regina was providing. There was no logical reason, as far as she knew, that Regina would be the person to make her feel better, but the fact was that Regina was soothing the panic rippling through her.

"I've discovered that making decisions while upset never ends the way I expect it to. So please. Return to town, rest up, and think about what you want."

"What if I never remember? What if I never want you the way you say I once did?"

Letting go was the hardest lesson Regina had learned, and she wondered how many times life would make her relearn the same awful thing over and over again. "If that is what you want, then I will not bother you, save for matters regarding Henry."

"And the new kid, if I keep it, right?"

"I hope you do." Regina gestured toward the car. "Will you do as I've asked?"

Emma let out a long sigh – she really didn't want to face the woman who had lied to and hidden things from her. Still, Regina was the only person she could trust right now, and Regina wanted her to do this. Her head may be hazy, but she knew she could rely upon her instincts. Regina could be trusted, so she would do as Regina wanted. She walked tiredly over to the vehicle and slid into the passenger seat. She noted that there were dirty scuffs on the dash, as if someone had rested their feet there. She lifted her knees and pressed her shoes to the marks; they matched.

"I used to make you wipe the dash down after every trip we took," Regina said as she took her place behind the wheel and started the engine. "However, you convinced me that I needed to relax, and now we only clean the prints if someone else is going to be in that seat."

Emma smudged her fingers through the dirt and shook her head. "I can't believe you loosened up about anything."

"I'm a very different person than you remember, Ms. Swan."

"I thought we were on a first name basis now, Regina."

The sound of Emma saying her name with no dark intonations drew a coy smile to Regina's lips. "I was merely trying to make you comfortable."

"Thanks, I guess." Emma felt her cheeks flush and her lower belly heat at the sight. She was willing to accept the facts as they were given to her for now, but there was a difference between trusting Regina and loving her.

Not wanting to push too hard, especially given Emma's terse response, Regina drove them back to town without further comment. She pulled up to the curb outside Snow's house and grabbed Emma's wrist before Emma popped her seatbelt loose.

"I know your feelings may be sore, but I ask that you allow Mary-Margaret to explain herself."

"Wow," Emma joked. "You're actually sticking up for her? Are you sure only six years passed and not a million?"

"Hah."

Regina released her grip and fought the urge to kiss Emma good bye. She watched the blonde head up to the house before driving back toward their home. Henry and Snow had begged her not to approach Emma, but now she felt justified in her feeling that she could reach the blonde where they could not. Even before they were romantically involved, she had innately understood the other woman, and that intrinsic connection between them remained no matter what.

She remained her the driveway for a long time as her imagination explored what her life would be like if Emma did decide to end their relationship, or abort their child. The mere thought made her feel like all the oxygen had been vacuumed from her lungs. Though she would no longer throw a tantrum of epic proportions, probably ending several lives and destroying half the town, she would not react well. There would be tears, minute violence against inanimate objects, and a severe cut to the law enforcement budget. She needed Emma – and that's all there was to it – and her need wasn't predicated upon using Emma to secure Storybrooke, but on how much Emma actually meant to her.


	5. Chapter 5

Emma sat down on the couch next to Brutus and watched Mary-Margaret meticulously rearrange the knickknacks lining the hearth. Grateful for the company, Brutus began to beat her with his tail until she gave in and began to rub his thick, fluffy fur with one hand. His tongue lolled out, and she couldn't help but grin at his lazy appreciation of her attention.

"The kids will be awake soon," Mary-Margaret said, her hands twitching over the same china doll she'd rearranged twice already. Emma knew that something was making the other woman anxious but didn't know and didn't want to ask the source of the nervous behavior.

"I'm looking forward to meeting them. I don't remember much, but I do remember you were a teacher, right? Nice that you got some little ones of your own."

Mary-Margaret nodded. "They've certainly added a good deal of joy to my life. I always wanted children."

When the brunette gave her a long, soulful look, Emma had no idea how to respond. Even from a distance, she could see that there were tears threatening to spill down Mary-Margaret's cheeks. Emma was uncomfortable with such an open display of emotion and so looked away, both for her own comfort and Mary-Margaret's privacy. She wondered if there had been a miscarriage that she had forgotten, or the death of another child. Because she was unequipped to deal with any sort of breakdown, she didn't dare ask.

Thoughts of Mary-Margaret's children only redirected her mind back to the problem she was avoiding thinking about – the parasite growing inside her. She didn't want to think of it as anything else, not yet anyway. Keeping it at an emotional distance would allow her to contemplate all of her options in a rational sort of way. The only thing getting in the way of this approach was the memory of Regina's face drawn with worry at the thought of losing their child.

"Can't say that was ever one of my life goals. Henry was an accident."

Mary-Margaret stepped forward tentatively. "I don't know if it helps, but this one wasn't."

"Were you going to tell me?" Emma leaned forward, her attention hawk-like in its intensity.

"Of course!" Mary-Margaret had a very honest face, Emma thought, and did a very poor job of hiding her thoughts. Emma wasn't the least bit surprised when the genuine smile faded as Mary-Margaret continued on to say, "I mean, when the time was right."

"There is no right time for any of this." Emma scrubbed her forehead with the heel of her palm. "Regina says I need to talk to you and give you a chance – but from my perspective, I've known you like a week at best. I don't know how I'm supposed to trust you."

"Over the past six years, we've gotten very close." Finally leaving the safety of her knickknacks completely, Mary-Margaret scampered over and shooed Brutus away. The dog galumphed to the ground, a bit bitter that his seat had been claimed by his human, but a scratch of his ears from Emma set the world right again. "We trust each other."

"I hear you. I just don't – I can't describe it, okay? It's like all of you are expecting me to just, somewhere deep down, know what's happening and understand everything – but that's not at all what's in my head. You say, 'Trust me, it's been six years!' But I've spent too long listening to myself. My head is telling me that's just not right."

"We'll work on it. Things will return to the way they used to be, I promise."

Emma found that she liked Regina's response far better. Rather than insist that things would normalize, Regina was comfortable with the idea that life for everyone involved could have been irrevocably altered. There was less pressure in that, which Emma appreciated. Mary-Margaret's view of the future came with high expectations of a life Emma couldn't remember, or even imagine.

"Sure." Eager to change the subject, Emma stared up at the portrait hanging over the fireplace and asked, "What's the boy's name? You mentioned the girl is Anna."

"Neal."

Emma's stomach lurched. Even after ten years, or sixteen, she felt the same rush of love, hatred, and betrayal. She had loved Henry's father too intensely, and the pain of what he did to her had soured her feelings. The last time she'd heard that name, she was locked away in a state facility, an unwanted child growing inside her. Now, pregnant again, the thought of Neal made her want to cry. Damn hormones, she thought darkly.

To keep from losing her cool, Emma forced herself to say, "Cute kid."

"He looks very much so like his father." Mary-Margaret stood, confident that all dangerous subjects had now been breached. She'd been worried that the mention of Neal would create some sort of emotional whirlpool in Emma, but the blonde was sitting there calmly. "I think you'll really like him – and Anna, too."

"If they're anything like Brutus here, I think we'll get along fine." Emma ruffled Brutus's ears. Dogs didn't lie. They didn't hide information, either. Emma kissed his forehead and wondered how much easier her life would be if she too were a canine.

0-0-0

Regina checked her phone and sighed deeply. She was used to having perhaps three missed calls over the course of the day, but ever since Emma had been injured, she was accruing nearly a dozen per day. The constant harassment was the main reason she no longer carried her work phone with her during the day, instead relying upon a very private number that very few people had access to. Each message had the same content: a concerned citizen was worrying about the barrier and curious as to how Emma was getting along.

She set the phone aside and rubbed her forehead. Emma's healing was slow, and her memories as locked away as ever, but the pressure to make Emma remember quickly was ever present. Emma had responded neutrally to the news of their marriage, but Regina wasn't sure how the blonde would deal with being told about the magical aspect of their town. Marriage to an enemy was one thing – magic that went against rational thought was another. The discussion had to happen soon, though, as without Emma, she wouldn't have the magical fortitude needed to reinforce the barrier and keep strangers outside.

"Mom?"

"Henry – I didn't know you were home. I thought you'd be out with friends."

"I was worried about Emma."

"That seems to be a common theme these days." Regina approached her son and set a hand on his shoulder. "I found her, and all is well."

"That's good." He wiped imaginary sweat from his brow, but his usual chipper attitude was lacking. "How's she doing?"

"Still no recollection, but she seems to be adjusting well to all the changes thrust upon her." As she spoke, Regina noted an ill feeling brewing in her stomach. Rather than worry about that, though, she began pulling supplies out to make dinner. Everything was fine.

0-0-0

Emma ate dinner quietly. Her hosts chatted enthusiastically about their respective days and constantly tried to drag her into their conversations. She had nothing to say, however, and remained taciturn. Not deterred in the slightest, Mary-Margaret continued adding Emma in whenever there was an opportunity, and soon enough Neal had picked up on the tactic. Though she could easily deny Mary-Margaret, especially after what happened earlier, Emma had a much more difficult time fending off Neal's gap-toothed smile and butchered English.

"You seed Gina?"

"Yes," Emma answered. She glanced at Mary-Margaret. "I'm really surprised she lets anyone call her that, though."

"Neal is a very special case."

"So your kid – yours – is given special privileges with her?" Emma shook her head. "This is so backwards."

"Sissy-"

Mary-Margaret interrupted Neal by standing up abruptly and beginning to clear the table. "David, would you make sure Anna is clean? Emma, help me clean up?"

Plastering on an apathetic expression, Emma nodded and stood. She did as she was asked and walked dishes to the kitchen where Mary-Margaret washed, and she dried. While they worked, she wondered just what the brunette was desperate to keep Neal from saying – there were too many mysteries in her life. She waited patiently as the kids were tucked in, sat up with Mary-Margaret and David, and then quite happily retired to her room to be alone.

The moment the door was shut, she slid to the ground and trapped her head between her hands. Her breathing, which had previously been even, erupted into erratic pants. All of this was too much, she thought. The sentence whirled through her brain over and over again, intermixed with doubts and fears. Everything that she hadn't allowed herself to feel over the course of the last few days or so broke free and spurted out.

She could never do this in front of other people, so she was incredibly glad she'd held it together long enough to find privacy. She had always been this way because to let someone else see her pain was to be vulnerable in front of a predator. After a lifetime of feeling like prey, she refused to be weak like that ever again. She silenced herself at the sound of a fist on her door.

"Emma, do you want to talk about it?"

"No."

"I know it's a hard time, but please. I understand what you're going through."

"Yeah, right."

"I know how it feels to wake up one day and feel like no time has passed, but really years have." Mary-Margaret knocked again, more insistent. She jiggled the knob, but Emma had locked it upon entering the room. "You used to trust me – and the best way to rebuild that is to trust me again."

Emma couldn't imagine trusting so freely; the idea of trusting someone after six years was even a bit out of her depth, yet Mary-Margaret just kept pushing. Emma scrambled back from the door, frustration bubbling in her stomach. That frustration began to fizz, sending tingles down her arms and legs. Emma glared at the door and willed Mary-Margaret to leave her alone.

"Maybe another time," she gritted out.

"Emma, please."

Sparks flared off Emma's fingers. The light distracted Emma from her angry response, replacing fury with intense fear. There was fire all over her hands, and there was no water in the bedroom. She threw herself at the bedspread and began beating her hands against it in an attempt to kill the flames. While the flames didn't extinguish, neither did they spread to the comforter. Emma's throat clenched shut as her mind struggled to understand what was happening.

There was literally no explanation for the cold flames bursting from her palm and licking over her fingers. She was beginning to understand that she was in no immediate danger, but that fact did little to calm the torrent of fear and panic crashing through her. All rational thought fled her mind as she focused on the one person she somehow knew could help her: Regina.

0-0-0

Regina was brushing her teeth when Emma exploded into her bathroom. She spotted the sobbing, hysterical blonde in the mirror and turned slowly, half-sure she was hallucinating. Emma's arms were on fire and her cheeks were flooded with tears. She spat her mouthful of toothpaste into the sink, rinsed quickly, and set her toothbrush aside.

"Emma?"

"Make it stop!"

"I need you to look at me." Regina lifted her hands and stepped closer. "Breathe for me, Emma."

"I can't!"

"Shh," Regina soothed. When she neared and discovered that there was no heat to the fire, she pulled Emma into a loose hug that tightened once Emma collapsed against her. She stroked Emma's back, murmuring quietly in Emma's ear until the flames died down and retreated back into Emma's body. She helped Emma to their bed, got her wife settled under the sheets, and promised a full explanation in the morning.


	6. Chapter 6

Since she'd awoken two hours prior, Emma hadn't said much of anything to anyone. To Regina, she'd murmured a breakfast request. To Henry, she'd muttered good morning. Other than that, however, she was reticent, exhausted, and out of her depth. She was half-way to convincing herself that the inexplicable events of the previous night were just lucid dreams. The only thing that made such a delusion seem impossible was that she'd found herself in Regina's bed come sunrise. There was no way to rationalize that away. Unless of course all of this was a dream, she thought. Then all she had to do was wait until she woke up for real. She'd be back at Granny's, and she'd never, ever eat fried foods just before bed ever again.

"Ma, you okay?" Henry waved a hand in front of her face. "You've been holding that same piece of toast for like five minutes. Are you going to eat it?"

Emma blinked and focused on his face. He was too real for this all to be fake. There was no way her subconscious could take a ten year old and age him so perfectly into a teenager. For a split second, anger bubbled low in her belly, but the frustration eased as she took a long, slow breath and exhaled through her nose. He was right – she'd been gripping her breakfast for much too long. When she eased her hand, the small indents where her fingers had been refused to pop back up.

"I'm fine," she assured him. "Just lost in thought. It's been an interesting few days."

Unaware of what had transpired while he was asleep, he grinned widely at her and shrugged. "That's just Storybrooke for you. You get used to it. If towns could have middle names, Storybrooke's would be interesting."

"I never knew small towns were so happening."

"Storybrooke's a unique sort of place." He nudged the small tub of margarine closer to her.

She gratefully dipped the knife in and spread a hearty helping over her dilapidated toast. She crunched in and devoured the slice in a few bites, cognizant that anything less would rouse his suspicion and concern. She didn't feel like explaining to him why she wasn't hungry. He'd likely understand, given his childhood preference for whimsy, but she just couldn't bring herself to say anything. He was her son, and she was his 'Ma,' but that was another closeness she didn't feel yet.

Regina entered the kitchen, cinching her robe around her waist and tracking Emma's tired movements with keen interest. She stopped at the coffee pot and poured herself a steaming cup, which she immediately doused with a slosh of milk and a packet of sugar. By the time she reached the table, she'd decided upon a safe way of breaching the topic of Emma's sudden appearance.

"What the hell was that?"

Regina tilted her cup back to keep from smiling. Emma had come to show her a softer side, but she did on occasion miss the blunt and forward woman that Emma used to be. A smile at this point, however, would endanger their tenuous relationship, so she hid her happiness as best she could. Her prefabricated explanation fled, though, leaving her ill prepared to answer the broad question.

"Simply put, Emma, that was magic."

"There's no such thing." Emma reached for her own mug of coffee and slogged it down. She wiped the back of her hand over her lips. "I thought Henry was past this curse stuff – but now it's like everyone's drinking the Flavor Aid."

"How would you explain what happened?"

"What happened?" Henry's eyes widened, and he leaned closer over the table.

"Nothing. Mary-Margaret was being pushy, and I got upset. I came here, and that's all."

Regina pursed her lips. She wished she could let Emma live with that, but she had decided to be completely honest with Emma about anything and everything, even if that meant force-feeding the blonde the painful truth, which was as hard to hear as it was to say. Lying was easy, and she had to firm her resolve before speaking.

"Emma, you have magic, just as I do. Magic is linked to emotions. You felt strongly last night, and your latent magic manifested itself as fire on your hands and arms. Do you remember how you got into my bedroom?"

Emma laughed; this had to be some sort of joke. If she were magical in any way, she wouldn't have been making a living as a bail bonds person. She would have created a million dollars for herself, gone to a private island, and lived a quiet life as far from other people as she could. No – if she had any extraordinary abilities, she had yet to ever reap the benefit.

"I guess I walked over. Everything is a little fuzzy from last night."

"You teleported."

"I never knew you could do that!" Henry's expression brightened. He reached across the table and grabbed Emma's arm excitedly. "You weren't able to before, anyway. Does that mean you're remembering, and getting even better?"

"This is just a big prank, right?" Emma's laugh went from hearty to queasy in a single beat. "Well, it's not working. I'm not buying into this."

"No joke," Henry responded. He checked his watch and flinched. "I'm gonna be late. Any chance I can borrow the car?"

Regina gave a stern look. "Henry…"

"It doesn't hurt to ask." He threw his hands up in defeat and then kissed Regina's cheek. As he went to do the same to Emma, he added, "I know this is way more to take in than you were prepared for, but it's the truth. The curse is real, and so is magic. You need to remember. The fate of the whole entire town rests with you."

"No pressure, huh?" She tried not to wince when his lips hit her cheek. This was purportedly her life now. She was uncomfortable with receiving his affection but held her silence until she heard the door slam. Meeting Regina's gaze, she managed a weak, "Does he always do that?"

"It was a common occurrence when he was a bit younger, but I think he's just grateful to have you around once again." Regina reached for Emma's cup. "Would you like more?"

"Any chance you could add a splash of rum?"

"I'm afraid I need you sober for this conversation." Regina poured more liquid into Emma's cup. "I'll answer anything you might ask. I promise you that I will be honest, even if I know you won't like the answer."

Emma accepted the fresh coffee with a dejected sigh. "No matter what you say, I'm not going to believe in magic. You can drop the act and just tell me what's going on."

"You may not believe what I say, but you'll have to believe what you see." Regina lifted her hand palm up. Once Emma's skeptical gaze was upon it, Regina summoned a sphere of fire no bigger than a golf ball. It danced between her fingers, flared twice its size, and died out when Regina closed her fist.

"Nice pyrotechnics. Pretty realistic. How'd you do it?"

"Magic." Regina moved closer. "It's been a while since I've communicated with this version of you, but from what I remember, you'll likely lock down any emotional response so as to appear unflustered and unflappable."

"You don't know me," Emma snapped. Regina was getting too close, and her words were much too correct for her liking. Absolutely nobody should know that about her.

"You may not remember much, but we have spent six years bickering, bantering, fighting, and caring for one another. I doubt there is any other person who knows you as well as I do, even yourself – especially now."

Emma's discomfort soured, and she felt the same unfamiliar feeling from the night before building in her. A flame of her own sparked off her finger tips, and she nearly yelped. Magic wasn't real, she repeated silently. The mantra did nothing to get rid of the fire. Regina quelled it before, she reasoned, so she reached for the brunette. The moment Regina gripped her arm, the fire dissipated.

"You have to get control of yourself."

"Fuck this." Emma jerked back, but Regina refused to let go.

"You cannot run from this."

Emma's stomach roiled unpleasantly as she understood the message to truly be: You cannot run from me. She hated when people tried to control her, or even influence her choices – but there was a firm resolution in Regina's tone which implied not control but comfort. The war in Emma's heart between trusting Regina and fleeing for dear life forced her to squeeze her eyes shut and step back.

"I want to."

"I know."

"This is crazy."

Frowning deeply, Regina moved closer again. "Emma, once upon a time, I gave you a new life in New York with Henry. You forgot all of this. Leaving Storybrooke afforded you a chance to be happy. If… if that is what you require-"

"You just said I couldn't run from this."

"I know what I said, but I also know how it feels to be trapped. Cages do not suit either of us, Emma. If that is how you view this town, or this relationship, I feel obligated to set you free."

"What would you tell the kid?"

"The truth."

"The Regina I remember didn't really have a good track record for doing that." Emma clutched her temples. "It's just too weird. I know you, but I don't know you. You shouldn't know me, but you do. It's-"

"Overwhelming," Regina inserted. She nodded curtly. "Mary-Margaret wanted to keep all of this from you for this precise reason. If you remembered in your own time, you would acclimate. If we informed you of everything-"

"I'm a frog to you, huh?" At Regina's blank look, Emma elaborated. "Put a frog in a pot of boiling water, and it bounces away. Put the frog in cool water and then bring it to a boil, and it'll never notice what's happening. You all thought I'd bounce away if you told me everything."

Regina averted her gaze. "That was our fear, yes."

"So instead you just wanted to boil me alive."

"You're taking the metaphor too far."

"Maybe. But you're making me feel crazy." Emma shook her head. "So Mary-Margaret really is Snow White? Really is my mother?"

"Unfortunately."

"So her kids are my siblings?"

"Yes."

"I guess that would explain why Mary-Margaret was so jumpy when the little boy tried to talk about his sister. She was probably afraid he meant me."

"His name is Neal."

Emma's nose wrinkled. "Right. How'd she come up with that?"

"Henry's father was here."

"How?"

"Mr. Gold convinced you to take him to the city, where you found his apartment. He saw Henry and put the pieces together himself."

"So he's around?" Emma's muscles tightened involuntarily.

"No."

"Just like him to run away," she spat.

"He passed away several years ago. Though it may offer you no comfort now, you had forgiven him."

Emma's lip curled back over her teeth. Forgiving Neal was something she was fairly certain would never happen. She had loved him, and he had hurt her. She hadn't trusted anyone the same way since. Yet the news of his death knocked a few more pleasant memories loose in her head, causing several stray tears to prickle in her eyes.

"I need some time."

"I would prefer if you remained here." When Emma shrugged, Regina pointed toward the stairs. "The first door on the left is a guest room. You may gather yourself there."

Emma headed upstairs and into the room. She shut the door behind herself, pinched the bridge of her nose, and then walked to the window. The first time she had run away from home, she'd been five years old. Old habits die hard, she thought as she pulled the window open and ducked through it.


	7. Chapter 7

"I can't believe you." Regina kept her voice low, so that no part of her angry scolding would drift down the hallway and accost Emma's hearing. Still, keeping a tight hold on her rage was difficult – years of therapy had done wonders for her self-control, but she wasn't perfect by any stretch of the imagination. There were moments, like this one, where her immediate response was to mercilessly slaughter those that hurt her or her family. "You warn me to mind myself, and yet what do you do the first chance you get?"

Snow was frowning – Regina couldn't see the other woman, but she could just tell from the slight whine that slipped into the other woman's voice. "You don't understand. She's my daughter, Regina. Nothing could ever change that. Maybe she doesn't remember, but I think on some deep level, she knows."

"She knows now," Regina snapped, "after she arrived in my bedroom, her arms on fire and her emotions a chaotic whirlpool. I had to explain to her this morning every detail that we wanted her to remember on her own. All because you couldn't think about anything but what you want. I don't think you'll ever change."

"This isn't my fault. She made her own choices."

"Spurred on by you." Realizing that Snow would never truly see the truth of the matter, Regina opted to halt the circular argument in favor of her next point. "I'm working hard to undo the damage your careless action has wrought. All I ask is that you leave my wife alone."

"She's my daughter-"

"While I am painfully aware of that awful truth, I'm through letting you make decisions about her care. You will stay away until such a time as I deem your presence acceptable." Regina hated how much she loved the power she had over Snow White. For years she'd thought that killing the pesky woman was the way to go, but she had discovered that adding minute discomforts to the other woman's life was much more rewarding. Dr. Hopper had validated her feelings, but Emma had been somewhat mortified.

"Where is she now?"

"She asked for some space – so I'm giving it to her." Unlike you, she added silently. "She's in the guest room resting and thinking."

"Are there any escape routes?"

Regina's lips twitched. "I'm not holding her prisoner, if that's what you're implying."

"You've made it perfectly clear that this isn't our Emma. This is the Emma whose first instinct isn't to face problems, but to-"

"Run," Regina finished. She sighed. "Though I doubt she's fled, I'll go check on her."

0-0-0

With one leg out the window, Emma froze – as she twisted her body to fit through the window, her eyes landed upon a framed picture over the dresser. It had been taken, she deduced fairly recently, as Henry had already outgrown his childish features. He was smiling broadly, his nose freckled and his hair mussed, while Regina leaned against him; their cheeks were smooshed together. The Emma in the picture was crammed on his other side, her smile as broad and as genuine as his and had her arm outstretched, leading Emma to believe that she had taken a family selfie, which Regina had no doubt printed and framed.

They all looked so damn happy. She focused on the image of herself and shook her head slowly – she couldn't remember ever feeling like that. Smiling had a very definite purpose: the manipulation of others so as to set them at ease. This smile wasn't like that. This smile was plastered on her face for no reason other than she wanted to smile. Somewhere in the back of her head she could hear Regina's demands that she just take the shot already, and Henry's teasing that his cheeks hurt.

She tried focusing in on the memory, but it fled as quickly as it came. She eased back into the room, left the window open, and sat on the bed. None of this should be part of her life, she thought. She was a loner – ever since she'd first discovered how unreliable people were, she'd known that she was the only one she could count on. Everyone else was to be kept at a distance so that they could never hurt her. According to that picture, though, she'd broken every rule she'd ever established for keeping herself safe.

When Regina knocked at the door, Emma flinched and brushed away the few tears that had slipped past her defenses. She cleared her throat before calling out that Regina could come in. Regina entered slowly and hid her relief behind a stoic mien. Emma hadn't run away, though a quick glance at the open window led her to believe that an attempt had been made – something had, however, seemingly changed the blonde's mind.

"I made you some lunch," Regina said after a few moments of silence. "A Rueben."

Emma met her gaze. "I'm not really hungry."

"I wasn't sure if you would be. I made your favorite anyway."

"Thank you."

"Did you want to be left alone?" Regina's eyes flickered back to the window. A slight breeze sent ripples through the curtains.

"Actually, I had a couple of questions."

"Yes?"

Emma rubbed her forehead and wrinkled her nose. "How did all this happen?"

The question was almost too large, Regina thought. She moved slowly, in case Emma wanted distance between them, and took a seat beside Emma. "You do recall, I hope, that Henry came to Boston and retrieved you for his own purposes, correct?"

"Yeah. That feels like a few days ago. He said you didn't love him, and I…" Emma flushed. "I've seen too many foster parents who are in this for the government check. You're his adoptive mom, not his foster, but I just had to make sure."

"You became the largest pain in my neck that I've ever experienced. You ensconced yourself into Storybrooke by working for the sheriff, and then later by becoming sheriff. There was an accident – In an attempt to rid you from my life, I placed a sleeping curse on a turnover. You didn't eat it, however-"

"Henry did." Emma's voice trembled. She licked her lips. "He was right about everything, wasn't he?"

"Yes."

"You're the Evil Queen. My mother is Snow White. Magic exists."

"Correct on all counts – except I prefer to think that I was the Evil Queen."

"Now you're just Regina," Emma replied, a small, tenuous smile creeping across her lips. Somewhere in the depths of her brain, the memories still existed; the more she accepted her life, the louder the moments of clarity became. "How did we start dating?"

Regina smirked. "Instead of telling you, how about I show you?"

"What?"

"Do you have plans this evening around eight o'clock?"

0-0-0

Emma watched Regina descend the staircase with wide eyes and bottom lip jammed between her teeth. The older woman was wearing a very elegant royal blue dress with a high waist and a tantalizing slit along one thigh. In her skinny jeans and jacket, Emma felt entirely out of sorts and undeserving of Regina's time. Perhaps there was time to change.

"Come along, my dear." Regina took her hand and tugged her toward the front door.

Guess not, Emma thought. "Where are we headed?"

"I had made reservations for Sieglinda's, but you had other plans."

"Did I?" Emma scoured her brain. Coming up empty, she asked, "What were they?"

Regina bypassed her car and simply led Emma down the street. She had been utterly mortified by Emma's date the first time – skipping fine French cuisine was a sign of insanity, not romanticism. Rather than fancy food at a four star restaurant, Emma had dragged her to the park where there was a picnic blanket spread out, peanut butter and jelly sandwiches in a cooler, and nothing but the night sky and each other for company.

"Going out to eat for a first date is too ordinary," she'd said. "You are anything but."

Emma padded down the sidewalk, tilting her head up to watch the stars as they passed. The cool night air was crisp and refreshing, and she felt more at ease with so many different ways to flee if things got too intense. She was glad Regina had foregone driving, as she wasn't sure if she would be content sitting in a locked car heading to an unknown destination.

When they reached the park, Emma had a flickering memory of raising a toast – but the liquid in their glasses wasn't champagne. She narrowed her eyes as she struggled to remember more. Rather than alcohol, they had saluted each other with – with apple juice, her brain supplied. The meal of the evening was childish and fun, exactly the way Emma liked things.

"Did I really make you eat a pb and j with the crusts cut off?"

Regina's eyes danced in the light of the street lamps. "I'll admit that I was hesitant, but you pointed out the constellations and I was sold. You remember?"

"Bits and pieces," Emma said. "Nothing big, and nothing whole."

Regina laced their fingers, pleased with even the smallest success. More happiness filled her as Emma deliberately walked a little closer. For the first time since the accident, Regina had real, honest hope that full recovery was a definite possibility. She inhaled slowly and was relieved to find that Emma smelled no different now than months ago.

They reached the blanket, and Emma helped Regina sit without ruining the elegant dress. She cracked the cooler open, tossed Regina a sandwich, and then peeled the clear wrap away from her own. Regina held onto her meal for several minutes, too nervous to actually eat. Emma was remembering, she noted, but that did very little to ease her anxiety.

"So… why did we decide to have another kid?" Emma brushed crumbs from her lips. "Did I ever tell you that I never wanted to have another?"

"We tried three times, but according to the doctor we saw in Albany, I have a hostile uterus. We were never able to properly conceive, no matter if we implanted sperm or zygotes." Regina stared up at the vast sky overhead. "I knew that you didn't want another pregnancy, so I never once asked you to do it, but you came home one evening and told me the way things were going to be."

"I volunteered?"

"Yes. It was the single kindest thing any person has ever done for me. You said it wasn't just for me, though – you said it was for us. We had previously been using blond donors in the hopes that the baby would look a little like both of us. You insisted we choose someone who looked like me for the same reason. We agreed upon a donor and… well, here we are."

Emma settled a hand over her stomach. "Do we know if it's a boy or a girl?"

"A boy."

"Have we talked about names?"

"Daniel Emerson Mills."

"Your last name, huh?"

"And yours as well." Regina fiddled with her wedding band. "You took it when we got married, stating that it would be less confusing and, as I recall, 'the kid already responds to Henry Mills.' You told me later in private that you wanted to symbolically shed your past and move on with our future."

Emma nodded slowly. "This is still so weird. It's like hearing about an alternate me."

"If this is too much-"

"No," Emma interrupted. "I need to hear this, okay? I know you're telling the truth, and it's good to hear about a time of my life when things didn't suck."

Regina unwrapped her sandwich and took a nibble. After swallowing, she continued regaling Emma with the mundane details of their lives. No matter how pedestrian, she included everything she could remember, from which side of the bed they slept on, to who picked Henry up from school on which days. Emma soaked in every word.


	8. Chapter 8

Emma sat on the couch and watched Neal try and pin Brutus to the carpet. The task was easier said than done, however, as the behemoth of a dog outweighed and outmuscled the little boy. Still, Brutus was more heart than aggression, and each of Neal's attacks was met with patient licks and a wagging tail. Eventually, when he was tired of having his ears tugged, Brutus woofed, sprawled to the ground, and pinned Neal under his furry girth. Neal's hands shot out, fingers wiggling.

"Help! Help!"

Emma grabbed his wrists and, with a short tug, yanked him free. He dusted his knees off, shook his finger at Brutus, and then scampered away – to find more mischief no doubt, Emma thought. As much as his name caused her pain, she had to admit that he was a very different person than the last Neal who had been a part of her life. Despite this, she couldn't quite look at him with any sort of real fondness. After all, he had what she never did.

"Thank you for coming back."

Mary-Margaret stood in the doorway, a silver tray of coffee, mugs, and biscuits in her hands. Not Mary-Margaret, Emma reminded herself. This was Snow White, the fairy tale and the mother who had abandoned her to her fate. Seeing the brunette smiling in the same uncertain sort of way that Emma remembered almost fooled Emma into thinking this was her friend.

"Well, Regina thought I should."

Snow's lips twitched. "You trust her?"

Emma waited while Snow set the tray on the coffee table and then poured herself a cup of coffee. Though there was creamer and sugar, Emma decided that there would be too much attempted sweetness in this meeting so she shouldn't try to temper her bitter drink. She inhaled slowly before taking a sip and letting her tongue flinch at the strong taste. Mary-Margaret might have been a wishy-washy sort of person, which had translated into her coffee making abilities, but Snow White was masterful with a coffee pot. Emma struggled to place where the sudden recollection of Mary-Margaret's coffee came from but let the matter go in favor of responding.

"Yeah, I do."

"But you don't trust me."

"No."

Snow's face was a soufflé. At the beginning of the exchange, Snow's cheeks were rosy and pressed up near her eyes by her smile – but at Emma's flat rejection, everything about Snow's mien deflated. Emma supposed that she shouldn't be surprised by this reaction, as she was sure that everything in Snow's life was storybook perfect. Anything going wrong simply wasn't scripted.

"I suppose I deserve that," Snow said, her voice adopting a slight whine. She caught hold of herself, though, and cleared her throat. When she spoke next, there was authority in her tone. "Still, if my life has taught me nothing else, it's that we all get second chances."

"What about third chances?" Emma fiddled with her mug. Her mother had left her at birth – chance one – and then lied to her – chance two. Whatever came next qualified as chance three, at least by her estimation. She lifted her gaze to meet Snow's and found the other woman's eyes watering with tears.

"You had forgiven me for that – you might not remember, but you had."

"That?"

"We thought we had more time. I was supposed to come with you." Snow reached for a biscuit, and Emma noted the tremble in Snow's fingers. "But you were a stubborn child. When you were ready to be born, that was it. I had to give birth to you before we could both travel to this place."

"So you're saying this is my fault?"

"Of course not!" In her fervor, Snow accidentally snapped a biscuit in two. "You didn't enact the curse, Emma."

"So it's Regina's fault."

"No…"

"Then whose fault do you think it is?"

"Nearly forty years have passed since then, Emma. We've all agreed to disagree."

Though this didn't sit well with her, Emma shrugged. "So I just up and forgave you?"

"Directly after the curse broke we were forced into a series of adventures – we had a lot of quality time together. I'd like to think you came to understand the circumstances."

"I would never." Emma swallowed hard. "I don't know what I told you, but I would never understand why you gave me up."

"There was a curse coming, Emma. You were to save us, and you did. It was the most difficult decision I've ever made-"

"But you still made it," Emma riposted. "You sent me away to grow up alone."

"I'm sorry."

"When I was a kid, I used to think it was better to ask for forgiveness than to ask for permission. I found out the hard way that not everybody forgives so easily." Emma stood to leave. No matter what Regina thought was best for her, she wasn't going to sit there any longer while this woman told her that her awful life in the foster care system was a forgivable offense.

"You gave up Henry," Snow called, halting Emma's exit. She stared Emma down. "Why did you do that?"

"I was in jail. I had no future." Emma placed a hand against the doorframe. Picking at the paint with a fingernail, she shrugged. "I knew that no kid would ever want me as a parent, so I gave him his best shot. Seems to me like he got it."

"That's what we wanted for you as well. Your best shot, Emma. We didn't know what the curse would do, but we wanted you to be happy."

"There hasn't been a lot of that in my life."

"Someday you'll remember the past few years, and you'll rethink that statement." Snow's eyes were wide and mournful. "We may have put you in the wardrobe, Emma, but we never, not even for an instant, stopped loving you. I'm sorry we missed you growing up. I really am."

"Good thing you've got a couple of replacement kids." Emma headed for the front door with that parting shot. All she could think about now was her first foster family who had returned her when they had a kid of their own. She pawed at a few angry tears; apparently as a grown and damaged woman, she wasn't enough for her own biological parents. No wonder, she thought, she wasn't good enough for any fosters.

"Oh, hey." David met her at the door. He had just stepped through the entryway and was working on removing his shoes. If he spotted her bright red nose or shiny cheeks, he said nothing about them. Instead he hugged her loosely and smiled. "On your way out?"

"Yeah… On your way in?"

Rather than answering the question with the obvious answer, he shrugged. "Did you need a ride home?"

"I was going to walk."

"I wouldn't recommend that right now."

"Why not?"

"People are getting worried. They've been acting strangely." He scratched the back of his neck. "The end of the month is coming."

"So?"

"I guess Regina didn't tell you, huh?"

"I guess not." She frowned and wondered what else nobody was telling her. "What?"

"The barrier around town – it needs to be renewed. It's a big job, though, that requires a lot of magic so you and Regina do it together. Or you have done it together every month or two for the past few years. We've had some pretty bad experiences with outsiders, so most people don't ever want the barrier to fail. Without you, Regina won't be able to keep it up."

Accepting that magic was real was simple enough if Emma just didn't think too hard about it – accepting that she herself had magic was still something she was struggling with. She remembered the flames on her arms, but she couldn't believe they'd come from her or that she was capable of doing anything special. She sighed.

"I don't want to make you leave the house again."

"It's no problem. You're my daughter after all." He punctuated his claim with a crooked grin. "You got your mother's chin, but I like to think you got my spirit."

Glancing behind her, Emma said, "Fine, I'd love a lift home."

He stuffed his feet back into his shoes and hustled out to his truck. Once she was safely belted in next to him, he pulled down the driveway. "I bet you're dying to know why I gave you up."

"I… Why would you think that?"

"My mother was a wonderful woman, but she made a decision when I was born to give up my twin brother. I didn't find out for years, but when I did, it haunted me. What if I had been that kid? I felt so guilty that I was the one she kept. I guess I just always thought you'd want answers because that's what I wanted from my mother."

"Why did you?"

"The Enchanted Forest was a world bound by destiny and fate and prophecy and all that stuff," he replied. He chanced a glance at her before redirecting his attention back to the road. "Rumplestiltskin – Mr. Gold – told us about Regina's curse, and that you would save us all."

He was just pawning responsibility off, she thought. All she could muster in response was a quiet, "Oh."

"I never wanted you to grow up alone, or to think of yourself as unwanted. The day you were born, I wasn't going to let you go. I never told your mother this – but it's true. I thought there was a way we could get around losing you." He swallowed hard and tightened his hands on the wheel. "Then the armed soldiers arrived, and I knew it was either send you to a world where the evil couldn't harm you, or be selfish and keep you cradled in my arms."

"I wish you had been selfish," Emma demurred. She stared out the window and watched the scenery change until they were on Mifflin. When they pulled to the curb, she finally brought herself to look at him. "Thanks for being honest."

"Honesty is the very least I can do." He reached over, set a hand on her knee, and squeezed. "I know I've made mistakes, but all I can do is promise to do better, if you'll let me."

Emma slipped out of the vehicle and lifted her hand in parting. Mind teeming with thoughts, she walked up to the house, knocked, and waited for entry to be granted. There was a key, she recalled, hidden in the garden. The spare was under a fake rock – before she could use this new memory to get back inside, the door opened.

"You're home earlier than I expected."

"Things probably didn't go as well as you expected, either."

"She's Snow White." Regina tossed a hand flippantly. "I had very low expectations – but rather high hopes if there was a chance at helping you remember."

"She just won't take own up to what she did, y'know?" Emma moved past Regina into the house. "She's too concerned with it not being her fault."

"I know exactly to what you are referring."

"Did I really forgive her?"

"You told me one night that you didn't want to fight with her. I believe you gave up more than you forgave her."

"Sounds about right. The funny thing is that I asked David why he gave me up, and his answer was almost brutally honest – the total opposite of hers. I mean, opposites attract or whatever, but…" Emma searched helplessly for the right words to express herself, but her mind was as lost as her emotions. Her tongue rerouted her after several moments of silence. "But he mentioned that we need to renew the barrier?"

"I was hoping you would remember before we tackled that task."

"Why?"

"If I were to remind you, that means that I would have to teach you not just the basics of magic, but the fine tunings as well, and all before the weekend."

Emma could hardly imagine the enormity of that task. Still, she'd never been one to shy away from work, especially when that work would function as a distraction from her problems. She met Regina's gaze and said, "Teach me."


	9. Chapter 9

Emma sat in the car and stared down at her belly. The pregnancy was getting harder and harder to ignore – what had originally looked like a bit of pure weight gain was now gaining the shape and bulge of impending babydom. She hadn't yet felt a kick or a struggle, but she wasn't sure she was ready for that little step, either. The baby could be as still as he wanted, she thought, and that would be perfectly fine for a long, long time.

She glanced out the window and wondered how long Regina was going to take in the store. They didn't need all that much – just some supplies for dinner, and perhaps a little something for dessert. Regina had been inside for about thirty minutes, and Emma was nearly out of patience. There was only so long she was willing to sit and brood about the parasite growing in her uterus. Only the fear of running into citizens kept her in the hot car. She'd get over that eventually, she mused, but for now she was content to hide from most people and avoid all questions.

When Regina left the store five minutes later, she looked harried, frustrated, and almost ready to decapitate anyone who stood between her and the Benz. She popped the trunk, stashed the few bags she carried, and then slid into the driver's seat. Emma gave her a moment to breathe before accosting her with questions.

"So… what took so long?"

Regina turned her head slowly and fixed Emma with a withering glare. That gaze softened, however, as she remembered that Emma was not one of the vultures from inside the store. She released her death grip on the steering wheel and ran a hand through her hair.

"The closer we get to the barrier needing its maintenance, the crazier people are acting."

"I've been meaning to ask – what's so bad about the barrier falling? So a few people might wander into town accidentally. What's the big deal?"

"Though you don't remember any of the happenings over the past years, there have actually been a number of intrusions, almost none of which have led to good things for the people here. Your arrival marked the first and only positive interaction with an outsider to date."

"What else came through?"

"The barrier kept out people from other universes and realities, as well as tourists from this one. Without it in place, my mother arrived with Captain Hook in tow. A man hell-bent on torturing and killing me showed up. Another woman seeking magic came and, with that man, kidnapped Henry. Two brothers slipped in, followed shortly after by my sister. After I defeated my sister, we all agreed that closing the borders was a necessity, given our town's ability to attract trouble."

"Well, shit." Emma nibbled on her lower lip. "Is that why it's so hard? Because it's not just a barrier for here, but like a blockade for everywhere?"

"Exactly. There is no definite threat waiting, at least that we know of, but most people are afraid that losing the barrier is an open invitation to more pain and suffering."

Emma set her hand on her protruding belly. "I think I could really go for some peace and quiet. I apparently lived through everything you're talking about – but one of the last things I remember from Boston, before Henry came that is, was that my apartment got broken into. He took a couple of things – not that I owned anything too valuable – and it really shook me up. My whole apartment didn't feel safe anymore. I had to check the door several times to make sure it was locked before I went to bed. To be honest, I even started checking the closet and the space under my bed."

"Security is a very basic need."

"Which is why we're going to make this happen. I don't know these people, but I think I know you." Emma set her hand atop Regina's. "If this is what you say is necessary, I'll make it happen."

Ever cautious but also hopeful, Regina lifted Emma's hand to her mouth. She pressed a small kiss to Emma's knuckles and said, "I believe you."

0-0-0

"You have to want it."

"I do."

Regina rolled her eyes. "Obviously not hard enough."

Emma tugged on the tips of her hair and resisted the urge to stomp her foot. She'd thought magic would be easy – like she'd wave her hand, say a few rhyming words, and then the world would adjust to her wishes. Instead she was sweating from how hard she was focusing. Nothing was happening, though, and so she sat, stared down at her empty hands, and angrily demanded the universe shift to accommodate her.

"I don't know how much harder I can want, Regina."

Regina lifted up a flat palm and immediately summoned a cupcake. This cupcake she set on the table in front of Emma. "For something small, you simply need to picture what you want and apply your will. The larger the request, the more effort required."

"I'm trying to make an apple appear. I really am."

"Have you tried summoning something more appealing?"

"You said to start small." Emma shrugged and felt helpless. "That's the smallest I could imagine."

"Pick something more enticing." Regina moved closer and watched Emma closely. "What do you want most?"

"I…" Emma trailed off as she drifted into a memory. Her mouth suddenly felt much too dry – one of the times Regina had said that to her, the time that was now playing in her mind, the brunette had been wearing stockings and very little else. She focused on that image and wanted as hard as she could. When she opened her eyes once again, she found a still dressed Regina looking at her with a skeptical expression.

"Were you trying to perform magic upon me?"

"Trying, yes," Emma admitted sheepishly. "Not performing, no."

"Nothing you attempted to do to me would work without my knowledge and consent."

"Didn't know that. I'll log that away…" Emma cleared her throat. "Not that I'd try to do anything without your consent anyway."

"I suppose not." Regina cocked a curious eyebrow. "Dare I ask what you were trying to do?"

There was a hint of a rasp in Regina's voice, as if she already knew exactly what Emma was wishing for. Emma flushed, her cheeks heating and staining almost instantly. This was her wife, she reminded herself, so any sexual thoughts she was having about Regina were perfectly acceptable. Except they felt weird. She had seen Regina naked – but she hadn't.

"Are you ready to continue?"

Emma stared up at her. "When was the last time we were together? I mean, uh, well, intimate? With one another?"

"Shortly before your accident. We were celebrating your pregnancy." Catching onto Emma's line of thought didn't take much effort. Though the magic lessons were important, Regina allowed their meeting to get sidetracked. To excuse her lax behavior, Regina justified this as a tactical maneuver to get Emma's memories back.

"Yeah?" Emma swallowed roughly, her muscles working double time to move her spit past the growing lump lodged in her throat. "It's just so – strange, is all. To think about us like that."

Regina hesitated a moment longer. As much as she wanted to take this as an invitation from Emma, she also didn't want to trample over what Emma really wanted in favor of giving into her own base desires. "The first time we were together you said something very similar."

Emma wracked her brain. "I never would have seen this coming, y'know? You're so you, and I'm just me – but somehow it's okay."

"You're remembering."

"More and more," Emma replied. She licked her lips as images of that encounter danced on her eyes lids. She reached out and set a hand on Regina's hip. "One of the things I'm working on right now, though, is a contingency plan. If I don't get my memories back, I might as well make some new ones, right?"

The magic could definitely wait, Regina decided. She cupped Emma's cheek with one palm and then leaned down to kiss the seated woman. A spark of arousal shot through at the contact – that and the hand Emma slid between her legs. She rocked against the touch and tried not to feel too grateful for Emma's attention. There was a small part of her that had been worried they'd never have this again, but kissing Emma felt the same.

Emma worked quickly to undo the button and zipper of Regina's slacks, and they performed the same precision operation on Regina's blouse. Within seconds, most of Regina's clothing was piled on the floor. Under other circumstances, Regina would have paused to neaten them and avoid wrinkles. Now, though, she simply let Emma stand up and lift her onto the kitchen table. Emma bent over, fumbled her bra off, and yanked at her panties. Her hips bumped up to help Emma out, but as soon as she was naked, Emma pressed her against the firm, flat surface.

"I don't remember what you like."

Regina pulled her close so their lips brushed as they spoke. "You have my permission to take as much time as you need to relearn."

Emma chuckled and moved her mouth to more important tasks than talking. While she nipped along Regina's heated skin, she placed a hand atop Regina's breast and massaged gently. No matter how excited she was, she got the feeling that soft and sweet was the way to go – though she couldn't for the life of her figure where that tidbit of information came from. She took her time and was rewarded with soft cries and fingernails that dug pleasantly into her flesh. Though she half expected her memories to come flooding back at Regina's climax, all she got was a sharp whimper from the other woman.

Ah well, she thought. She could feel bad about that later. For the time being, she let Regina surge forward and knock her down onto the linoleum. Using what Emma could only imagine to be magic, Regina removed her clothing and wasted no time in pressing every single one of Emma's buttons. There remained no doubt in Emma's mind that she had been married the woman on top of her – they'd clearly done this before and often. No memories accompanied her climax either, but she was more than content with what she did have: a beautiful woman lounging next to her, with whom she had somehow built a life.

0-0-0

Once Henry had been sent to his room to do his homework after dinner, Regina cleared the table – not thinking about the events of that afternoon for fear of utterly distracting herself – and faced Emma, hands akimbo. Emma smirked up at her, clearly expecting something different than what was coming.

"While this afternoon was-"

"Great?"

Regina nodded her agreement. "We didn't finish our magic lesson."

"I got the gist of it." Emma lifted her hand and summoned an apple. The idea, she'd discovered, was something like the toy for children with the different shaped holes. She had been trying to shove an apple through the smaller square hole. Her effort was intense, but there was just no way to get the apple through. Pushing an apple through an apple-hole, though, worked quite well, even if she had to create that opening herself. "It's not about just wanting – but about making it happen."

"Very clever."

"So what? We just make this barrier thing happen?"

"You've got the basics of magic, Emma, but this is a much more complicated spell."

"I can handle it," Emma boasted. Even without her full set of memories, her cocky attitude was filling in the gaps. "We can at least try, right? No harm, no foul if we fail?"

Regina considered for a moment before shrugging. "I suppose that much is true. We can try. But only if you feel ready-"

"I was born ready."


	10. Chapter 10

Regina stood at the edge of town and examined the worn, badly faded orange line that distinctly marked Here and There. Though the line no longer served a purpose, nobody had ever bothered to scrub the paint up. Many thought of the line as a historical landmark, proof of the history of this town and its peoples. Regina didn't care much one way or another, but she did appreciate knowing where the barrier existed without having to stretch her hands out in front of her and feel blindly around.

"So, what next?"

Emma stood a few yards behind her. She had dug one of her favorite leather jackets out of storage, much to Regina's consternation. There were many things about the resurgence of old Emma that she appreciated, but the return of Emma's tattered jackets was not one of them. She had gotten Emma all kinds of new outer wear, yet Emma was still deathly attached to the rather smelly, moth-eaten jackets that had been rightfully packed away in boxes in the attic.

"As I told you before, this spell is rather complex." Regina walked to the car, opened the rear door, and pulled out a thick book. She flipped through it and upon finding the right page, cracked the tome more fully open. She lifted it to her nose and inhaled deeply. Reacting to her breath, the spell swirled off the page, filling her nostrils.

"I didn't know magic was like cocaine."

"I had forgotten how witty you used to be," Regina said. She handed the book to Emma. "Your turn."

"I just breathe?"

"Correct."

Despite sporting a look that clearly displayed how crazy she thought this whole thing was, Emma lifted the book and sniffed. She sputtered and nearly sneezed as the spell reacted; she went still as a buzzing leapt to life in her veins. Feeling lightheaded, she laughed uneasily and tossed the book back into Regina's arms.

"Okay, that was a little weird."

"That's only the first step. You may like the second even less."

Emma stepped back as Regina drew a dagger from the backseat. She lifted her hands and smiled as pleasantly as she could. "Hey, look – you love me, right? So there's no need to-"

"Relax, Emma." Regina placed the blade against her own bicep. "This has never been your portion of the spell. You have always deigned to perform the sacrifice rather than the bloodletting."

Emma watched the blade slice through Regina's skin and winced as blood pooled, dripped, and spattered to the ground. She swallowed past the growing lump in her throat and refocused on what Regina had just said. "Sacrifice? Not too sure I'd ever be big on something like that."

"That was the position you took the first time we performed this. You were, as I hope you will be now, glad to know that the sacrifice is mostly symbolic."

"Mostly?" Emma stuttered out a short bark of a laugh as her nerves got the best of her. She doubted she'd be so calm or collected if she had to injure her arm like that.

"The first time we cut your hair. The second, you allowed me to burn an old shirt."

"So what's this time?"

"You haven't told me, yet." Regina eyed her. "You may choose anything you'd like."

For a split second, Emma's mind wandered to the growing child in her womb. Were she truly the woman she had been before, she might have gone through with it. Instead, she dismissed the thought as completely preposterous and tried to come up with a feasible idea. Regina, however, didn't miss the subtle change in her expression or the way Emma's hand settled on her belly.

"I'll sacrifice my hair again, I guess."

"Very well." Regina waited for Emma to cross to her side and then heated the tip of her finger. With on gentle slice, she lopped off the bottom two inches of Emma's golden mop. The golden tips drifted down and settled amongst the blood droplets. "Take my hand and will as hard as you can. Concentrate on the people of Storybrooke and how much you wish for their protection. I'll do the rest."

Emma did as she was bid. She clutched Regina's hand and wanted very badly that every person in town was granted some measure of protection. She closed her eyes and therefore didn't see her detached hairs beginning to glow or the way Regina's shed blood started to sizzle. She did feel, however, the pressure building in her gut. They were doing something big, she thought. All at once she felt energy zapping through her, from fingertip to fingertip and from skull to toes.

She was doing it. The thought ran rampantly on repeat though her mind. No matter what people had told her all her life, she was capable of doing something important. She mattered to the people here. She had a purpose, and she was fulfilling said purpose. For once, she was doing things right. Pride rushed through her.

Moments later, though, the power that had been practically oozing through her began to dry up. Mentally, she clutched desperately after the fleeing feeling of might. Despair rapidly replaced pride as she realized that once again, she was fucking everything up. She felt small, like she was still a six year old child huddling in the dark and hoping that she'd just make it through the next day without making her foster parents angry.

She had never been capable of doing anything. She'd had all sorts of people remind her of that over the years, from teachers to foster parents and even strangers. She had been a fool to think that she could do something as important as protect a savior. Regina had mentioned before that she was supposedly the Savior – but she clearly couldn't save anything or anyone. She squeezed her eyes more tightly shut and hoped that tears weren't leaking out.

_Regina found her one afternoon, her arms wrapped tightly around her legs, which were pressed to her chest. Her chin rested atop her knees, and she sniffled when she heard the bedroom door close. As Regina approached, she did her best to bury her face away from Regina's curious gaze._

"_There's no need to cry," Regina murmured. She rubbed a hand along Emma's back. "Things will work out."_

"_That's the third doctor you've been to."_

"_And I'm sure Dr. Gloose will not be the last."_

"_How many times do we have to go through this?" Emma dragged her wrist over her eyes. "How many times does some person in a white coat have to tell us that there's no way it'll happen – maybe with magic ha-ha-ha."_

"_If it doesn't work, then so be it. We have Henry." Regina kissed her temple. "We have our son, and he is more than enough."_

_Emma pawed her tears away. "I'll do it."_

"_Do what?"_

"_I'll get pregnant again."_

"_Emma, you've already told me that-"_

"_I know what I said." Emma took a steadying breath. "And I know what I want. I want to do this for you. For us."_

Regina was silent for several long moments before she gathered Emma into her arms. "I know what a big thing this is for you. Though you may change your mind whenever you want, I thank you for even the thought. You continue to amaze me, Emma Swan."

Emma opened her eyes and poured everything she had into the spell. She met Regina's gaze, pushed out a last burst of energy, and toppled to the asphalt panting. By the time she had gotten back to her feet, memories were swarming between her eyes – she nearly collapsed again. Regina remained standing, though she settled her hands on her knees and there was sweat collecting on her temples.

"We… did we do it?"

Regina nodded twice, still a bit unable to speak. She'd felt Emma falter before but was pleasantly surprised by the blast of power that had sealed the spell. Wasting no further time, Emma pulled Regina against her and kissed the out of breath woman with all she had. Regina blinked a moment before responding.

"What was that for?"

Emma smirked. "For us."

Catching on, Regina returned the gleeful expression and said, "You never cease to amaze me, Emma Swan."

0-0-0

"So you remember?" Snow let out a dramatic sigh. She was relieved, and she wished the world to know it. "That's so good to hear, Emma!"

"Yeah," Emma replied. "So I have all the memories back, but I also haven't forgotten about what happened recently."

Snow paused. "I thought that all of that was because you couldn't remember."

"I, uh, I think we should talk about it." Emma grimaced. She was better about talking about her feelings now, but the process was never going to feel quite natural. "I do love you, but I have to admit that what I said when I forgot was – well, it was true in part. I guess I never quite forgave you. And now that you know, I don't want to sweep it under the rug."

Snow frowned. "You forgave me a long time ago – you told me so."

"Whatever I said before, I said it because I just wanted you to love and accept me. I didn't want to cause trouble." Emma gritted her teeth. "Trouble in the foster care system meant bouncing to a new home, and I just wanted some set of parents to want me around for once."

"But I know now," Snow repeated.

"Exactly." Emma switched the phone to her other ear. "I can hear a baby crying in the distance, so we can talk about this later. It'll be for the best, I promise."

"If you're sure…"

"We get to talk about it now," Emma clarified, "instead of me feeling bitter and resentful in silence."

"I never knew…"

"I know. But now you do, and we can move forward, right?"

"That's all that I want."

Emma ended the call and tossed the phone aside in favor of crawling back under the sheets with Regina. Though they both had work to which they needed to attend, Emma had been strongly in favor of a day of playing hooky. Convincing Regina hadn't taken much effort, and Regina couldn't say that doing so wasn't the best decision she had made in a good many years.

"Do you really think that this talk with Snow will bear fruit?"

"I have to hope so. As annoying as she can be at times, she is my mother."

"Mm," Regina replied. "Things are so much easier now that your memories have returned."

"Kinda makes me wonder what locked them away in the first place."

"I wouldn't ask Henry if I were you. He feels guilty enough about the whole incident that he'd probably devote himself to hours of tireless research until he found an answer for you."

"If I ever need to punish him, I'll keep that in mind."

"Not even I could be that cruel."

"You Evil Queen you." Emma snickered quietly. "I just wanted to, y'know, thank you. For telling the truth, I mean. I learned pretty early that most people are out to trick you for their own benefit so it was – refreshing to meet someone who was actually telling me what she knew."

"I'll admit that my reasons for doing so were quite selfish."

"Whatever the reason, you won my trust for the second time." Emma snuggled closer. She had never been big on cuddling, but her desire to be close to Regina pushed away most of her standoffish predilections. "I'm hereby forbidding myself to ever forget you ever again."

Regina let her head fall back as she laughed at the thought. Her head hit the bedframe with a fairly large clunk. At Emma's instantly murmured concern, she cocked a haughty eyebrow. "Ms. Swan, what are you doing in my bed?"

"Are you serious right now?" Emma sat upright, shock forcing the blood from her face.

"Of course not," Regina retorted, her face breaking into an honest smile. "I don't think I could survive without you."

Fin.


End file.
